


we fight, we fall (but we come back together)

by gwenoakley



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Irondad, Mental Breakdown, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump, i love my family so much, i wrote this in one sitting, it does hurt in the beginning but i promise it gets better, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenoakley/pseuds/gwenoakley
Summary: It's an argument, but it's not.It's pain and abuse and memories and fear and trauma and anxiety and depression and so many words left unsaid.It's an argument, but it's not the end of everything.Tony won't let it.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 100





	we fight, we fall (but we come back together)

**Author's Note:**

> this came to me so suddenly and I had it all finished in under two hours. I'm still in shock. this was a bit of a release for me, since my mental health has been weird recently, but I feel a little lighter after writing this. tony and peter really are so healing for me. I hope they can be for you, too.

It’s just an argument.

Barely even that, Peter thinks. It’s just a spat, the logical part of his mind says, a stupid little bickering moment because he accidentally knocked over a glass and it shattered on the ground, staining the wood floor with root beer. And usually, on any other day, they would’ve just cleaned it up and moved on, made some stupid joke, and gone back to working in the lab like always.

But today is different. Today, Peter’s mind is swimming with darker memories of his parents, and he’s been trying to brush it off, smile through the pain, like all of his old therapists said, since today is lab day and Peter doesn’t want to be drowning in trauma when he’s spending time with Mr. Stark. These moments are Safe and Peter can’t have his parents ruining that for him, even from beyond the grave.

Today is a Bad Day no matter how hard Peter tries to hide it.

And unbeknownst to him, it’s a Bad Day for Tony, too.

Which is why, when Peter stands up too abruptly and knocks the glass over, and they both hear it shatter, echoing in the otherwise silent lab, there’s a half moment of silence, and then something _snaps._

It’s an argument, but it’s not.

It’s Tony spending all day so tense he couldn’t even take a deep breath, overwhelmed with meetings and Accords bullshit and the beginnings of a headache forming right behind his eyes, and _god_ , he’d wanted nothing more than to open a bottle of whiskey and say fuck it, but he had the kid coming over, and maybe his nonsensical ramblings and childlike excitement could help him relax a little bit.

And deep down he knows Peter didn’t _mean_ to knock the glass over, of course he didn’t, it was just an accident, but that doesn’t help in the moment. Because in the moment, he stands up so fast his stool tips over, crashing onto the ground, and at first he doesn’t even realize it but he’s yelling, his face is heating up, and the words spill out of his mouth before he can think them through: “ _Damn it_ , Parker! What the hell is wrong with you?”

And he sees Peter’s expression change, the blood draining from his face, his eyes widening in fear - _it’s fear, he’s scared of me, I was supposed to be safe for him_ \- but everything is overflowing and he can’t stop, he _can’t._

Peter is frozen, eyes blown wide in terror as Tony yells, but it’s not Tony, it’s his parents, spending another night screaming at each other in the kitchen with four-year-old Peter hiding in the living room, sobbing into his stuffed bunny, and then the fight would turn to him, shouts of _worthless_ and _little brat_ and _miserable little shit_ being thrown around, and Peter would run, fleeing up the stairs to his bedroom where he’d cry himself to sleep, only to be woken up by Mary’s gentle hands on his face, kissing him all over, whispering _we didn’t mean it we were just mad at each other it’s what parents do, we love you so much baby it’s all okay._

But it would happen _again and again and again_ and that had to mean they meant it, right? To him and to each other.

And now Tony is doing the same thing, snapping at him for an _accident_ , and usually this wouldn’t even be a big deal, so why is it now? Why is Tony exploding like this when Peter didn’t even mean to break anything?

It hurts, it _hurts._

This is the straw that broke the camel’s back. This is it.

Peter is frozen, Tony’s voice turned into something comparable to TV static, and then, he bolts.

His heart pounds fiercely in his chest, and he struggles to take a deep breath as voices scream in his head, Richard and Mary and Tony and even Ben, those moments when Ben would drink a little too much and he’d do the same thing Tony is doing now, getting so viciously angry at Peter for something that would normally be so small, barely anything to bat their eye at—

He knows he doesn’t have anywhere to truly hide, this is the Stark Tower after all, but he still races down the long hall, away from the lab and the broken glass and Tony’s angry voice, to the room that Tony said was _his._

_“If you ever - you know. Need to spend the night or something,” Tony said that day, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “It’s all yours. Decorated it and everything. You know, billionaire and all.”_

And he had - the softest blankets Peter had ever felt, a stuffed bear propped against the pillows, retro Star Wars posters on the walls and new Lego sets ready to be built on the dresser. And when Peter _did_ spend the weekend - which he did often, it was almost a normal occurrence, _and when did he end up being able to spend the night at Tony Stark’s tower, how was that even possible for him_ \- his backpack was tossed on the ground, his books and homework strewn across the desk, and his pajamas in a heap on the bed. It was _home_ , just as much as his apartment with May was.

But when Peter finally gets to his room and throws the door open, it doesn’t feel like home. He’s frantic and scared and _angry_ \- at himself, at Tony, at his parents for exposing him to that kind of pain when he was _just a child_ \- and his mind shuts down, zeroes in on one thing, he has to get these feelings out, out, out, _get it out I need it to stop I didn’t mean to I’m sorry YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE YELLED AT ME._

One of his many old therapists mentioned the word trigger to him once, but Peter hated that therapist so he never paid attention to anything she said.

It’s only in this moment that he realizes he might finally understand what a trigger is.

But that doesn’t stop him.

The door slams behind him and Peter screams, _screams_ , tearing his throat raw as the sound echoes through his room and probably out to the lab where Mr. Stark presumably still is but he doesn’t even give it a moment’s thought, his mind is almost a blank slate at this point, no logical thoughts can get through when he’s in this position. Dimly he thinks of the Avatar State and wonders if this is how Aang felt.

He screams again and his hand sweeps out, knocking over his almost-completed Lego statue of the Death Star he’s been working on with Ned, and it crashes onto the ground, so many Lego pieces breaking off and scattering over his floor, over a thousand pieces and hours of hard work, _gone_ in a second because _Peter can’t handle this._

He can’t handle the memories of his parents, coming up _today_ for no good reason, and Tony yelled at him, _why did he start yelling?_ He’s attacking everything he can grab, things are being thrown, destroyed, hit, and he knows he should _stop - stop stop stop please I’m sorry I didn’t mean it I SWEAR_ \- but he’s so long gone he doesn’t know what he’s gonna do.

He screams, and he falls to his knees.

Lego bricks dig into his shins but Peter doesn’t feel them. He doesn’t feel anything.

And a second later, he sobs.

Tony sees Peter’s face as he yells, like a deer in headlights, stricken in fear, but something in him doesn’t allow him to stop. He throws out words like they’re nothing, _how could you be so stupid, this was so careless, can’t you take care of anything, god damn it_ \- but they’re _not_ nothing, they’re hurting Peter, he can _see_ that it’s hurting him, _so why can’t he stop?_

It’s only when Peter turns and runs that it hits him, all at once, and he crashes to his knees.

And Howard’s face floods his mind.

He remembers being young and hearing Howard yell at him for every little thing, every little mistake, even when he didn’t know any better. He remembers Howard’s bruising grip, the alcohol on his breath, the way he’d slap Tony across the face because he didn’t meet his gaze, he didn’t reply fast enough, he didn’t say the right thing, or _even just because he felt like it._

He was terrified of his father as a kid, and then when he got old enough to understand that he’d been _abused_ , he _hated_ his father.

And just now, with Peter in the lab, he’d turned into everything he hated about his father.

To a kid he swore he’d never, ever hurt.

A kid that was practically his in every way that mattered.

He wants to break. He wants to break down right here, on the lab floor surrounded by glass and spilled soda, sobbing for the child he’d hurt, the child he swore he loved, and yet.

A painful scream echoes down the hall, followed closely by the sound of something breaking, and Tony’s head jerks up. It’s coming in the direction of Peter’s room, because now he _had_ a room of his own at the Tower - this was becoming his home as much as his tiny Queens apartment was. Tony could’ve never, ever predicted that, but he didn’t hesitate in giving that to Peter, because damn it, the kid deserved it.

Everything is pushed to the side - the shame, the guilt, the memories of Howard, and the glass on the floor. Everything is abandoned as Tony scrambles to his feet and runs down the hall, too frantic to even ask Friday what the hell happened to his kid.

His door, the one with the Star Wars license plate nailed to the front, is closed. Tony skids to a halt in front of it.

He tells himself to open the door, _you need to open the door, he needs you._

But he stays frozen to the ground, struggling to even take a deep breath.

_Peter doesn’t want you, he doesn’t want the same person who hurt him—_

_This is your fault, you hurt him, he’s not going to want to see you—_

_You lost him._

It’s a pain unlike anything he’s ever known.

It was a mistake, he _swears_ it was, but what if it’s a mistake he can’t fix?

In the moment, nothing exists besides the closed door in front of him and the knowledge that Peter is somewhere behind that, broken and hurt because of his own carelessness.

“Fri,” he whispers, barely audible. His chest hurts. “Is - is Peter okay?”

_“Mr. Parker appears to have had a breakdown. He doesn’t seem to be in any physical pain.”_

A breakdown. _A breakdown._

He opens the door.

The sight that greets him is horrific. Peter sits on the floor, eyes dead and dull, seemingly unaware of the destruction surrounding him. His prized Lego sets are now in thousands of pieces on the floor, and Tony can even see from here that some are broken for good. One of his Star Wars posters is ripped in half. His school books have been thrown against the wall, pages creased and ripped, and there’s even a dent by the window. And Peter isn’t acknowledging anything.

Tony stands there, and he feels it rising up in his chest again. That rage. That overwhelming anger at Peter’s ruined room, the one he offered and paid for, and for the kid to just _do this_ —

He blinks, and he takes a deep breath.

Peter is so clearly in pain. Something must’ve been going on with him today, and Tony yelling must’ve pushed him over the edge. And it must’ve been bad, because Peter’s _never_ done this before. He loves his Lego sets and his school books and everything Star Wars and for him to ruin it all…

He knows it was a mistake. A breakdown, like Friday said. And Tony knows better than anyone, you can’t control those breakdowns when they come on.

But you can control how you respond to them.

“Pete,” he whispers, fully stepping into the room. He tries to avoid the Legos as best he can but immediately decides that’s a lost cause and just steps right in front of Peter, kneeling down to where he’s slumped on the floor. “Hey. Kid. Look at me, okay?”

It takes a second, but finally, Peter blinks, his eyes clearing, and as soon as they do, they widen with fear as his head whips around to take in the damage. “Oh god,” he whispers, and his voice is raw, sounding so painful it makes Tony’s chest ache. “Oh god, no, no, _no_ —”

“Peter,” Tony murmurs again, his hand extending out, but not daring to touch Peter just yet. “Just breathe. It’s okay, it’s all okay—“

“No, no, no, I didn’t mean - I didn’t mean to do this, Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry, just _please don’t be mad at me_ —“

Tony’s heart shatters.

He throws caution to the wind, and reaches out to touch Peter’s shoulder as gently as possible.

The kid freezes, flinches, but his eyes meet Tony’s, and they’re so full of _love._

Even after everything, Peter still loves him and trusts him.

_He does want you. Even after all that, you’re the one he wants in the aftermath._

It’s a love beyond words. It’s a love only a son can have for his father.

He puts his other hand on Peter’s shoulder, tugs him a little closer. “It’s okay,” he says, slowly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s been a really stressful day, but that’s not an excuse. I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

“But I - I messed up your room, and I don’t even know what _happened_ , I just… I didn’t mean to, Mr. Stark, I swear—” Peter’s rambling, his voice cracking, and there are tears in his eyes as he shifts uncomfortably, the Lego pieces digging into his skin.

“I know.” Tony’s voice is so uncharacteristically soft. “Believe it or not, Pete, I’ve actually been here. I’ve felt this way. And you don’t deserve any more pain when it’s over. You deserve someone who’s gonna understand, and help you fix it… and I want to be that person for you. If you’ll let me.”

A tear slides down Peter’s cheek. “You - you’re not mad?”

“I was,” Tony admits, and Peter’s face falls. “But then I thought about what I needed when I broke down like this. And besides, all of this can be replaced. Billionaire, remember?” He tries for a smile and his heart swells when Peter smiles back at him. “But,” he continues, “you come before everything else. As long as you’re okay, nothing else matters.”

“I’m still sorry,” Peter whispers.

Tony sighs and leans down to kiss Peter’s forehead. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, baby. I promise. Now—” he sits up and reaches his hand down to Peter who’s gazing up at him with so much love and wonder in his gaze, “we’re gonna go order a pizza and have a movie night, just the two of us. And tomorrow, we’ll talk and figure this out.”

Peter takes his hand, gripping it with all the strength he has, and doesn’t let go even when they walk out of his bedroom. He doesn’t let go of Tony for the rest of the night, clinging to him while they eat pizza and watch Rogue One, and Tony wouldn’t change it for the world.

He wouldn’t change Peter for anything in the world.

It’s an argument, but it’s not.

It’s pain and abuse and memories and fear and trauma and anxiety and depression and so many words left unsaid.

It’s an argument, but it’s not the end of everything.

Tony won’t let it.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a review. :)


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